


A valuable lesson

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [63]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Caning, Dom Cain, Gags, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Paddling, Riding Crops, Sub Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4888108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today, Cain wore just a faded black pair of jeans, his broad chest bare. Dean loved how the thick hair on his chest curled when he worked up a sweat beating Dean’s ass. His shoulder length hair was pulled back in a pony tail, a sure sign that this scene was going to be brutal. Dean would feel it for a week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A valuable lesson

Dean was semi hard already when Cain cinched the last strap around his wrist. Shifting on his hands and knees perched on the rests of the padded bench, he got himself good and settled. The bench was perfect, he could rub his cock between his belly and where he’s straddled on it, but his ass juts off the end enough for Cain to hit all the good parts and get between his thighs. He can hang his head off the end, limp and staring down at the floor when he doesn’t have the energy to hold it up, or he can watch curiously as he follows Cain’s movements in front of him. 

The bench was set up in front of the wall of hooks and shelves that hold all of Cain’s toys. Or tools. Instruments, maybe. Not all of them are fun to play with. Sometimes he hides things behind Dean before he starts a scene. Sometimes he lets Dean watch as he picks a toy up. 

Today, Cain wore just a faded black pair of jeans, his broad chest bare. Dean loved how the thick hair on his chest curled when he worked up a sweat beating Dean’s ass. His shoulder length hair was pulled back in a pony tail, a sure sign that this scene was going to be brutal. Dean would feel it for a week.

Good. He needed a hard scene. It had been a while since they’d been able to get together and he was jittery for it. There was an empty something somewhere inside him, and he wasn’t too sure what was supposed to go inside it but this did just fine. He needed to hurt, wanted the blood. He needed to forget his own name, wanted to forget everything. 

Cain crouched in front of him and held up a shiny purple cat toy. He rattled it, jingling loudly, before pulling Dean’s hand forward on the rest to curl his fingers around it. Normally he’d clutch at the padded rest of the bench, but he could scoot his hand forward enough to leave weight on the heel of his hand with the strap holding his wrist securely to it as he clutched the little cat toy in his fingers. 

Dean smiled and held his mouth obediently open. He knew what the cat toy meant. A large shiny red ball gag was wedged in his mouth, prying his jaw apart wide as Cain buckled it tight behind his head, leather digging in to his cheeks. No talking today. Good. 

It was so quiet in the playroom, Cain’s bare feet on the wood floor never made a sound, that Dean could hear crickets outside the closed window. The bench creaked when he shifted impatiently, head craned up to watch Cain picking something off the wall. A riding crop. Simple. Just a warm up toy really. Dean didn’t want a warm up, but he didn’t really get a say in it. At least it was a promise that he was in for a long scene. 

Cain stood in front of him, crop held in one hand as he pushed his fingers through Dean’s short hair comfortingly. He was quiet. He never spoke much. Dean pushed in to his hand, straining towards him. Cain hummed and stroked his hand down Dean’s jaw, fingers tracing the wide stretch of his lips around the gag, spit already dripping down his chin and he was just drooling in anticipation. 

He let his head sag when Cain finally moved on, circling behind him and starting with light swats to his ass. The crop barely stung. The impression it left on Dean’s skin hurt more than the impact, a warm tingle as Cain moved on down his ass to the backs and sides of his thighs. 

The crop made an audible whistle through the air before connecting with Dean’s body and it was easy to relax into the rhythm of it as Cain worked up a little harder, eased off, and worked harder until the crop was snapping against his skin with a bite. Dean could feel the heat spreading under his skin, his breath growing more shallow, he jumped when the crop connected hard against the soft inside of his thigh. 

His cock was dripping pre-come, wet between his belly and the padded leather, it slid easy as he squirmed. The pain bloomed under his skin and made his pulse quicken. When Cain dragged the square leather tip of the crop over his sore skin and down between his legs, flicking it with sharp little snaps against Dean’s balls and the stretch of sensitive skin up to his asshole, he was so eager for it he nearly came already. But he was better trained than that. He could wait. Cock hard and slick, he clenched his one hand around the bench’s rests and tensed his legs as he shuddered and a small whimper pushed out around the gag in his mouth. 

Cain laid one more harsh blow against the meat of his ass, laying down the length of the crop against him and Dean yelped as he rocked forward. The soft leather tip rubbed against his sore skin, stroked down against the backs of his thighs and lingered. Cain let him come down as he breathed heavily through his nostrils and trembled, hovering on the cusp with the pleasure of it coiled taut and low in his stomach. The pain always got twisted up inside him and made him ache in the best ways, made him shiver and beg. Dean wasn’t really sure why but he’d given up a long time ago and learned to accept that a good beating could make him come hard enough to black out. 

Panting, starting to sweat enough to slide easy against the bench, Dean sagged when Cain moved away. He felt the crop tap under his chin and obediently lifted his head and blinked his eyes open. Cain smiled at him. Dean used to think he wasn’t really a good sub or didn’t have what Cain wanted because the Dom was always so quiet and reserved. But Dean had learned that when he earned even the smallest smile on Cain’s stern face he had done really good. 

Turning, Cain hung the crop up and picked a paddle off the wall. Dean felt his muscles tense in response, stinging and warm from the crop. He could feel the ghost of that paddle on his ass already. A good hard wood one, long, smooth polished so it gleamed and perforated with holes down the length of it. Cain hefted it in consideration, standing in front of Dean so he could watch – was expected to watch – as he smacked his hand a few times and ran his fingers along the shiny wood. 

Dean could feel his spit trickling slowly out of his stretched mouth and dripping on the floor. He’d rather have a cock in his mouth but the ache of his jaw wide around a gag was nice too. He could clench his teeth and bite hard into the rubber when Cain got rough. Turning his head he followed Cain’s movements around him until he disappeared and Dean let his head drop again, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to calm his breathing. Rolling his shoulders, Dean arched his back up and popped a crick out of his neck. 

A strong hand settled on the small of his back, pressing. It was a quiet reminder. Be still. Dean hadn’t even realized how much he was squirming, basically humping the bench and sure it was maybe a little undignified but Dean didn’t figure he had much dignity like this anyway and the smooth leather felt so good against his hard cock. 

The first hit of the paddle was a sharp crack in the silent room. Dean grunted as he was rocked forward with the force of it, a wide stripe of pain hot and sudden on his ass. He could feel the tension bunching in his shoulders as he curled his toes and braced. Cain moved around him. He didn’t touch Dean with his hands, just traced the paddle over his skin as the only point of contact between the two of them. Rubbed it down his thighs before raising it again to smack hard on his ass and lay a few quick hits in immediate succession down the backs of his thighs. 

The pain was immediate and immense, more all consuming that the small tap taps of the crop. Cain worked him over rapidly, covering from the top of his ass down above his knees with light swats to his thighs and brutal full swing hits to his ass. The stinging linger of it against his thighs made him writhe, the full jarring impact of it on his ass made his cock twitch. The fevered swell of pain that rippled through his body had his gut churning hot, had his ass aching to be filled, wanting to be used. He didn’t care if Cain took him raw with just spit. 

When he was swimming in the high from it, body coming loose and mind unraveling, Dean loved getting fucked senseless. It was like everything just shut down when it was stretched too much between feeling pain and feeling pleasure, and he could just drown in it. 

But Cain kept hitting. Bordering on too intense, he hit over the same sore bruised parts again and again with the full flat of the paddle and Dean was grunting louder with every hit. The taut coil of arousal in his belly was starting to shift into the tension of his shoulders as he stiffened against the pain. The pleasant laxness of his body turning hard. He clutched the little cat toy in his hand though and he squeezed his eyes shut. He could hold out. His eyes were watering and he fucking hated it, because he was tougher than this, Cain wouldn’t go much longer and Dean could fucking make it. 

He was trembling when Cain stopped and walked in front of him, hanging the paddle back up. Dean felt raw and pulsed with the heat of his skin that was probably deep scarlet and welted by now. He’d have impressive marks to crow about. Because he can fucking take it. 

He thought Cain was done. Dean was hurting and his arousal was starting to flag with exhaustion and the extremity of his pain. But he was ready to crawl off the bench and present his ass or just open his mouth. Make it feel better. Make it worth it. Get him back in to that right place hovering between pleasure and pain. Only. Cain didn’t crouch down to untie the straps. 

Cain stood in front of Dean with a switch. Not even one of the hard polished wood ones, the traditional ones. He held the long clear fiberglass rod that he used for a switch sometimes. Not all the toys he had were from a store, Cain made things himself and he was damn good at turning scraps and raw materials into sadistic tools. Like this goddam switch. It was heavier than wood but thin and pliable enough to bend a little. It stung like a motherfucker and Dean could only take a few hits of it on a good day. 

Dean was more of an impact play kind of guy. He liked the blunt heavy hugeness of it more, how it was more all consuming, how it washed through you. The stinging things like the switches, they had more focus and Dean didn’t like that. How they honed in and lingered. It could skitter down and jar bone but it didn’t spread like a good flogger could. 

He tried to control his breathing as he watched Cain grip the switch and move behind him. Dean was sweating enough to drip on the floor. Suddenly he could feel the restraints around his wrists and ankles. They cinched tight and rubbed his skin as he twisted and tugged at them. Biting down hard on his gag, Dean went rigid when he heard the first whir of the switch through the air. 

He screamed. 

It was muffled behind the gag but it was the only sound in the room other than the slap of the switch against his skin. Dean choked down a sob that expanded in his throat and kept on swelling, pressing at him, tight and hot and it lodged there in the back of his mouth. He couldn’t swallow it down again when Cain struck him the second time, landing the switch from one side of his ass to the other. 

Pain lashed under his skin and skittered along his nerves. It wasn’t the pleasant buzzing of tolerable pain that teased at his thresh hold, it was raw and bright and furious. Dean felt something wet trickle down his thighs at the third lash and he wondered if it was sweat or blood or both. His face was running with sweat, and tears he realized bitterly, and snot and spit. 

Dean shook and tried to curl up on himself even though there was nowhere to go. He was a simpering and unable to hold back his sobs and he couldn’t help the flush of shame through him. He was weak. He wasn’t strong enough. This wasn’t fun anymore. 

He still held on. It couldn’t last much longer. Cain wouldn’t keep going. He wouldn’t. He usually stopped before Dean ever really reached the point past pleasant. There were a few times he’d pushed too hard, not many, but he’d never reduced Dean to this pathetic of a mess before. 

The switch smacked down again on his aching tender skin and Dean couldn’t – he dropped the little cat toy in his hand and it clattered with a loud jingle on the wood floor. Cain stopped immediately and walked around in front of Dean, setting the switch against the wall and there was a smear of blood on it. Dean had never safe worded out of a scene with Cain. He’d only done it once before with another Dom. He didn’t safe word.

Maybe it was a little easier to just let go of the bell toy Cain had given him than to say it out loud, but it still stung his pride. His whole body felt like it was on fire even though he was only beaten from his ass down his thighs. Dean could feel his muscles quivering with strain and stress. He felt light headed and disconnected. Cain crouched in front of him and unbuckled the ball gag, dropping it on the floor.

Dean’s jaw ached. He looked down at the floor and closed his eyes. 

Cain cupped a hand over the back of his neck. “Dean, did you mean to drop that?”

He nodded yes, still not looking at Cain. 

Cain’s hand slid under his jaw and tipped his face up. Dean blinked his eyes open and forced himself to look at his dom. 

“Dean. Did you mean to drop that?”

Dean felt his cheeks burn. His throat was rough from screaming but he rasped out a, “Yes Sir.”

The last thing Dean was expecting was to see Cain smile gently. “Good.”

Dean was still reeling and trying to come back down to his aching body and things didn’t really make sense. Cain unclasped the straps that restrained his wrists and moved to the ones at his ankles. Dean didn’t understand when Cain said, “I’m proud of you.”

Pushing himself up, Dean followed where Cain pulled him. Swinging a leg over the bench he nearly toppled, his legs wobbly and feeling a little nauseated. Cain steadied him with an arm around his shoulders. Dean tried to nudge him away, stand on his own two feet, he still had at least a shred of pride left. But he knew he’d fall of in his face without help so he let Cain steer him out of the play room and down the hallway to the bedroom. 

They never played in the bedroom. Cain kept his spaces strictly separate, organized. His bedroom was where they fucked in the mornings lazy and sleepy. Where Dean could whack Cain with a pillow if he wanted to roll over and go back to bed. Where he could be bossy and take what he wanted and shove Cain down to kneel between his legs and pin him, suck his cock slow and tease him. The bedroom was all muted beiges and deep moss greens, it was a comforting room. 

“On your belly.”

Cain nudged him onto the bed and Dean flopped down, dragging himself up to curl a pillow under folded arms and rest his chin over the edge of it. 

“Stay.”

Dean would grumble but he was exhausted. He felt wrung out. 

_I’m proud of you_

Wait just a fucking second. 

Dean listened to Cain running water, padding down the stairs to the lower level and back up again a minute later, coming back in to the bed room. 

Dean shifted, he could feel every movement in every part of his body, muscles sore from holding so much tension. He rolled his head over to look at Cain. “What did you mean?”

Cain set something on the night stand and sat cross legged next to Dean’s head. Dean scrunched his face up and pulled away when Cain started wiping his cheeks with a wet wash cloth. He swatted at Cain and grabbed the towel, scrubbing the snot off his own face even if his arms felt like lead. Cain let him. Picked up a glass of orange juice and held it out to Dean. 

“Drink all of this and I’ll tell you.”

Dean pushed himself up long enough to gulp it down before flopping on the bed again. His ass and thighs were throbbing, still feeling flushed hot and stinging like mad. 

Cain set the glass and washcloth aside. He rummaged around in the drawer and pulled out a little home made tin of a salve Dean recognized. Standing up, he pushed his jeans off and knelt on the bed nude to straddle Dean’s calves and start rubbing the salve into his sore skin. 

“I meant that I was proud of you for admitting that you have limits.”

Dean tried not to whimper and pull out from under Cain. The lightest touch hurt like a bitch, but he knew he’d feel better once Cain was done spreading the salve on. It smelled pungent and herbal. Dean knew Cain made it by hand with herbs and stuff from his garden, but wasn’t too sure what all was in it. It numbed him though, and he healed up nice when Cain used it. 

Dean smashed his face in the pillow and mumbled. “I don’t get it.”

Cain lightly spread the salve over him before starting to rub it in. “You don’t like having limits, you don’t like saying no to me and you don’t like to admit when something hurts too much. That’s not a good thing. Everyone has limits.”

Dean rolled his eyes and grunted. 

“Using your safe word isn’t a bad thing and I’m not disappointed, Dean. You need to accept your own limits.”

“Were you seriously just gonna beat me until I safe worded out then?”

That was kind of frightening. Cain always stopped. He knew Dean well and even when he pushed a little hard, he always stopped. 

Dean _relied_ on him to stop. Dean counted on Cain to know when it was too much. He had given that much power to a Dom before and it didn’t end well. Of course, Dean figured he had deserved it. 

Son of a bitch. 

Cain huffed and shifted off him, putting the salve away and laying down on the bed next to Dean. 

“Do you get the lesson now?”

He felt like he was weak when he couldn’t take it, like he should be able to push himself harder, like he needed to prove something. He relied on Cain to quit when it got rough. He refused to admit his own limits. 

“I’ll work on it.”

Dean doesn’t really know why Cain cares. When this turned from a strictly D/s relationship to fucking sleep overs and beers after work and movies on the couch and Dean has a toothbrush over here now. 

But he feels good when he’s with Cain. Even after he’s had his ass beaten bloody and he doesn’t think he’ll want to sit on anything for a few days, he feels good now that he knows Cain was just waiting for him. That Cain’ll put him back together afterward. And Dean can maybe admit that yeah his self destructive masochism goes a little too far sometimes and it’s not that healthy. He’s never been good at holding back or going easy. But he can work on it. 

“Good. That’s all I ask.”

Cain sat up and pulled his hair down, tumbling loose and curly to his bare shoulders as he twisted and turned the lamp off. He stayed on top of the sheets, with Dean, and lay back down quietly. Dean shuffled over, wincing at how his skin felt pulling over muscle like they were separate things and he was too aware of the sensations of his own body. Carefully, he nudged under Cain’s arm and lay his head on the man’s chest. Cain curled his arm around Dean’s shoulders, fingers stroking the top of his arm. 

Listening to the steady beat of Cain’s heart, Dean relaxed and let himself drift. He realized they hadn’t even fucked after the scene. It felt a little strange and incomplete to him, but he was too comfortable to care. He could always wake Cain up with a blow job. Maybe ride him backwards cowgirl style so he could show off his marks the whole time. 

It was hard won, but he’d learned a valuable lesson. 


End file.
